


The Edge of the World

by amenokuma (orphan_account)



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-21
Updated: 2015-01-21
Packaged: 2018-03-08 13:29:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3210869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/amenokuma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the midst of ruin it's a welcoming land and he looks at me with hopeful eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Edge of the World

"We can make this work," he says quietly.

"Make this work..." I murmur. I knew this was coming, it's been a _long_ time coming, but I want to be sure so I look over my shoulder.

It's a welcoming land, the ground is fertile and the climate forgiving, not too hot, not too cold. There's a forest we could use to build a home and there are animals in the forest to provide meat for our table. There's a spring nearby to drink from, and we could have a garden to grow more of what we need. We've never found a better place and we've been everywhere.

And this would be the place where we would come to our rest. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. But resting is for later because we are here _now._

And now is for living.

I look in the other direction, down a road of cracked, broken asphalt. At the end of the road there's a city we passed through that's deserted and fallen. We could take what is still usable, whatever we need to survive. There'll be others, of course. There are always survivors, and maybe they'll come to reclaim the city from nature, and maybe they won't, but that's not my concern at the moment.

My only concern is standing right next to me. He's looking out over the water at another city under the water. After ruination comes renewal, just like the water as it ebbs and flows through the sunken city below us. Just like the fish as they swim and explore their new playground.

From where we stand, on the top of the cliff, our view is unhindered. We can see it all. All of its glory. All of its downfall.

In all of its silence.

He touches my hand, enfolds it with his own and turns to me with hopeful eyes. He's taller now, tall enough so we stand face to face, and he touches my face, so worn and weary just like his own.

I want this, too. I want it all. All of him, as he is peeling the anger and sorrow off of me, layer by layer, right down to my quivering core. And then he kisses me, kisses me for all he's worth.

And he is worth _everything._

As I hold him my sighs of contentment fill him with every breath, leaving no room for any pain to linger as we stand at the edge of the world. So we'll stay, and we'll toil, and we'll pray. Not to a god or any such concept. We'll pray to each other with our words and our actions.

"Alright," I say, and he smiles brightly, "we'll make this work."

 

On the first trip to the city he finds an old truck, and after much tinkering we get it running and make many trips to salvage what we can. We use the pickup for heavier supplies until it runs out of gas, and since fuel is scarce we walk for the rest of our needs. I find seeds for the garden, medicines to treat possible illness or injuries, and plenty of soap to keep things clean. He finds clothing and dried foodstuffs to tide us over and picks out books so we can learn what we need to know.

In the beginning the work is labor-intensive, and at the end of each day it's all we can do to just lay on the grass and stare at the stars. Every part of us aches, but in a good way. We borrow the sun and the wind to power our home and rig a connection from the spring to the house. We're quite proud of our accomplishments and our bodies grow stronger day by day.

We work the garden together and he wants me to wear a broad-brimmed hat for protection from the sun. I frown at the sight of it, but I can't refuse him when he looks at me with such concern, so I stuff the silly thing on my head and he just grins. He's wearing one, too, so I have no room to complain. He looks so happy as he works beside me and I wonder not for the first time about our newfound domesticity. I would never have believed it but this lifestyle suits us, and when we finish we decide to go for a walk to look for fruits and nuts.

We find a way down the side of the cliff and go swimming in the ocean for fun, and it helps soothe our aches and pains. Sometimes we dive under to have a look at the new ecosystem as plants are taking over the buildings. We bring home fish and other times we go hunting in the forest, and when we sit down to a meal brought about by our own hard work we never forget to give thanks for everything that sustains us.

Sometimes, if we're feeling light and free, he tries to pull me into his childish games and I feign indifference, but his infectious laughter always wins, and we end up tumbling and rolling on the ground like a couple of fools.

But even as our lives settle into calm, simple patterns there are still times when dark memories of our struggles for survival threaten to overwhelm us and we hold each other tightly until our fears pass, as they always do, and our closeness consoles us to sleep.

And then there are times when sleep eludes us and our desire seems never-ending. When he moans and begs, and I gasp and plead, and we sweat, not from work but from pleasure. We drive ourselves relentlessly to reach our peak and collapse for a breather before we start again.

We've come so far, been together every step of the way, supporting, and pushing, and sometimes literally carrying one another. Every moment we have now is precious to us, and at the end of the day, while we sit before our home and watch the sun setting over a sparkling sea, I lean into him and his satisfied sigh makes me smile.

This is our reward, our paradise in the midst of ruin. Yes, we have made this work.


End file.
